


3 Times Peter was Happy...and the 1 Time he was Also Happy

by happybeans



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (is that a tag? is now!), 3 + 1 Things, Fluff, Gen, Irondad, Wholesome Fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 08:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21425080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybeans/pseuds/happybeans
Summary: Peter’s adventures with meeting and getting to know his mentor, Tony Stark. Basically, Peter straight-up has a good time and that’s it. Enjoy!
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	1. Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> After the last downer of a fic, I figured I should go overtime on the heart-warming wholesome stuff. And the rest is history! I'm a jerk for posting before it's complete, but eh, whatever. You'd think I'd learn my lesson with "A Series of Unfortunate Dates" but evidently, no! Expect the last two chapters in a couple of days, yo.

The first time Peter met The Iron Man, it was a calm, typical school day.

Then a giant, purple monster attacked Queens.

“Holy schnitzel!” Peter exclaimed, gliding to the side and just barely escaping the monster’s swinging tail. As it was, the thagomizer—Peter just learned that one; it means the _ giant, awful spikes _ attached to the tail—whizzed past with a sharp whine.

Whew. That was a close one.

He regained his bearings, swinging back around the beast and re-adjusting his goggles mid-air.

The dinosaur-monster was huge, taking up the whole street and crushing cars under its scaly, taloned feet, causing a cacophony of alarms to blare out along its path. Kind of terrible, but whatever.

“Sir, I’m going to need to see your insurance,” Peter said, swinging around it. He was hoping that if he could just manage to twist it up in the web… “Woah!”

The monster swung its arm out, letting out a wet roar, and Peter was forced to release his current web to drop out of the way in time.

But don’t worry! He totally had it completely under control.

He rolled with it, attaching a web to the belly of the monster and swinging between its legs then just barely missing the tail as he came up from the other side.

It was at this point that he heard a loud whooshing sound from across the way, and he came to a stop on top of a building to look.

He had to adjust his goggles again—he would have to change out the strap on it when he got home—but his eyes widened when he saw it.

“OMG, Iron Man?!” he said, straightening up and waving a hand. The Iron Man was flying right towards him, and as he got near, Peter said: “Thanks for coming to help out! It’s so cool to mee—”

Aaaand, Iron Man just flew right past. Right. The monster.

Peter watched as Iron Man flew around the monster, palm blasts clearly shooting it but not fazing it. Smaller pieces of burnt scales fell to the ground in clumps, but there were more layers resting underneath. And, oh, that smell. Narly!

Iron Man was not getting far on his own, so Peter jumped back into the fray, swinging around the front of the monster to distract it.

“Hey, you!” Peter shouted as he swung past the first time. He turned back around to swing by again, saying, “Look over here! Now I’m over here! Whatcha gonna do about it?!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Iron Man spoke from his speakers then. “Mind leaving this one to the professionals?”

Pfft. Peter _ was _ a professional. He had a costume and everything!

“I’m distracting it!” he yelled back, unsure if Iron Man could even hear him over the cars and the constant roaring of the monster. “What are you doing?”

And, okay, that part was pretty rude and not at all how he meant it to sound, but there’s no use dwelling over that.

He flew back past the monster, this time going over its head and onto its back. And, ruh-roh, it did not like that; the second Peter touched down, the monster started bucking and jumping, rolling its back in an attempt to throw Peter off.

And Peter, spooked, obviously grabbed the nearest back-spike—no name for those, as far as he was aware—and held on for dear life.

“You really don’t like me back here, huh?” Peter said, words stuttering out of his mouth from the force of his being whipped around. Interesting.

“I’m gonna tell you this one more time,” Iron Man spoke, hovering to the side of this whole mess. “Get outta here, kid.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a kid!” Peter spoke, turning to look at Iron Man. He soon realized that he couldn't see anything; the goggles had been knocked entirely to the side of his face. Dang it.

His moment of distraction was enough for the monster, who suddenly twisted to the side, and the force of it was enough to break its back-spike clean off.

“Oh, snap!” Peter said, letting go of the spike and shooting a web blindly and luckily managing to snag it on a building. 

He adjusted his goggles mid-air and somehow managed not to break the glass on the windows as he came to rest on the side of it, surveying the field.

Iron Man was still going off with the lasers and explosions—which was really cool, actually, and Peter couldn’t help the small ‘wow’ from escaping past his lips—but despite the light show, it didn’t look like he was actually getting anywhere. It’s like the monster wasn’t getting hurt at all.

Peter wanted to check something.

He swung back into the battle, aiming for the back of the monster, but was totally denied; the monster turned right around the second it sensed him coming.

“Shoot,” Peter said, readjusting so he wasn’t aiming right for the monster’s mouth. He attempted to go right past its head again, but, for a giant monster, it was pretty light on its feet and turned itself right back around. “Shoot.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Iron Man asked, flying to face Peter.

Peter paused for a second, swinging past the face of the monster and looking at Iron Man. Then he smirked with possibly his craziest idea.

“Teamwork!” he shouted back to Iron Man, taking the moment to calculate angles and speed. But then he stopped thinking, flipping his web right onto Iron Man’s middle.

Iron Man shouted: “Team—what?!”

And then Peter was soaring, using his grip on Iron Man to fly around his hero in a circle, flinging himself right back onto the back of the beast.

“Woohoo!” Peter shouted as he flew. Then: “Uh-oh.”

The monster…was not happy. To say the least.

Peter stuck himself right back on there, holding onto the spike right above the broken one. But the thing is, Peter’s theory was right; he looked into the hole left behind by the spike and saw…mechanics.

It was a robot-monster. So cool.

“Hey, Iron Man,” he shouted behind himself. “I think I found something!”

“Of course you did,” Iron Man said, clearly not believing him.

“No, seriously, you might wanna see this!” Peter said, still being flung this way and that by the robot-monster.

But maybe Iron Man couldn’t hear him over all the noise, because he watched as he flew back towards the front of the monster, shooting his lasers over that way.

Peter groaned. Looked like he was on his own again. But that was fine. He planted his feet, wrapped his arms around the spike, and _ yanked _, with all he had, and after a second, the spike ripped clean off. And Peter, of course, could not catch a break. He fell backwards then started rolling down the side of the robot-monster, and all he could do was get a hand onto it to steady himself.

“Iron Man!” Peter shouted, finding himself near the other superhero. “It’s a robot!”

“What are you saying?” Iron Man spoke back, and Peter could’ve rolled his eyes. As was, though, he couldn’t really see anything, with the goggles having fallen back to the side. So he didn’t roll them.

Also, that would have been rude, and his Aunt and Uncle didn’t raise him that way.

“A robot!” Peter said, using his free hand to point towards the back of the monster. “Look!”

Then he re-adjusted his goggles, hearing Iron Man fly closer then around the back of the monster.

“Oh. It’s a robot,” Iron Man said, and Peter groaned.

“Exactly!”

With the weak-points established, the battle was practically over from there.

Peter grounded himself, looking up to watch Iron Man blast the mechanics inside the beast. He’d never been this close to an Iron Man-battle before. It was probably the coolest thing to ever happen to him.

The only moment that really pops out is when Peter saved Iron Man’s _ life _.

Okay, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, not that Peter would admit to it. Thing was, Iron Man was so distracted by his lasering and blasting that he didn’t notice the—

“The thagomizer!” Peter shouted from down below, and at least this time Iron Man listened to him. He looked down, saying:

“The what?”

And then Peter did all he could do in that second: he shot another web at his hero, this time on the foot, and yanked him down and out of the way.

“Watch out!” Peter shouted as he did it, and the tail and thagomizer swung past Iron Man’s head.

Iron Man just stared at Peter for a moment before he nodded. “Thanks.”

After the battle was over, Peter swung himself onto a nearby building, hoping Iron Man would come over. Then the actual coolest thing ever happened to him: Iron Man flew towards him.

As he hovered over the edge of the building, Iron Man said from his speakers: “Nice job. I’ll be in touch.”

And any words that Peter tried to say were drowned out by the repulsors of Iron Man’s suit as he flew away.

“—and… Aaaand you’re gone. Okay. Good talk!” Peter shouted at Iron Man’s retreating figure.

He just had a conversation with Iron Man. You know, kinda. Coolest. Day. Ever.

Peter grinned, shouting again: “Woohoo!”

He swung back towards school, and even though he got, like, a lifetime of detentions, Peter couldn’t care at that moment. He just met and fought with The Iron Man. Woohoo!


	2. Dialogue

The first time Peter met Tony Stark, it was the most hectic, crazy school day. 

And then Aunt May’s food got stolen out of the work fridge. And, sure Peter was tired and just got home, but that wasn’t important! May needed her granola!

He threw together a lunch in a bag from their plastic bag-drawer—they’d been re-useable for years; these were leftover from a while ago, swear—then he was grabbing his house keys from his bag, throwing them into his pocket, and making for the door.

But just as he was about to open it, there came a knock. Weird. He doubled back to set May’s lunch down on the coffee table and waited a second, so it didn’t look like he was already there. Then he opened it up.

“Hello?” he asked as he opened the door. Then he saw who was there and he said, “Hello?!”

Tony-Mcfreaking-Stark. You’ve got to be kidding.

“Afternoon,” Tony Stark said. Then he was pushing past the doorway and into the living room. 

“Um,” Peter started, following after. “Sir, you can’t come in here? Why are you at my house?”

Peter won’t lie: the second he saw Tony Stark, he started sweating. This can’t mean…

“Pardon?”

Peter backtracked. “Sir, it’s really cool to meet you, but… I think you have the wrong apartment.” Please, for the love of everything, let him have the wrong apartment. 

“Don’t play dumb,” Tony Stark said, picking up a picture frame from the end-table, inspecting it, then putting it down. “I’m here to talk about Spider-Man.”

Peter’s heart genuinely skipped a beat.

“Um, haha—” He was, to say the least, shook. “Spider-Man? I don’t know him; I just take his pictures.”

“Right, you take your own pictures.”

“False.”

When Iron Man said he would be in touch after the last battle, Peter looked forward to it. Maybe he would be allowed to join the Avengers, or, like, he didn’t know, fight some of the more interesting battles or something. He never planned on his human identity coming to light, though.

“Okay.” Tony Stark picked up the picture frame again, turning it around to look at it. Then he whipped around and threw it at Peter.

“What—” Peter’s Spider-Sense went off, and he snapped an arm out, catching the frame before it could hit him or break. 

He turned it to look at him and felt a wave of anger flare up in him. This was one of his and May’s favorite pictures of Ben.

“What the hell?!” he started, swearing even though he normally tried to keep it PG. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Listen, Spider-Man—”

“Stop.” Peter stepped towards the table, setting the frame back down. “This is my house—” He grabbed May’s lunch from the table while he was there. “And I was just leaving. With all due respect, sir, you have to go.”

“You just got home from school,” Tony Stark said. “Where do you have to go?”

“Gross!” Peter said, making a face. “How do you know my schedule?”

“You’re still wearing your school uniform,” Tony Stark pointed out, gesturing over Peter with one hand. 

“Oh. Right. Well, for your information, I have to bring my Aunt her lunch. Er, dinner.”

Tony Stark stood up then, pulling out his phone and tapping it. “Great,” he said as he entered his insanely long pass-code. “My driver will be here in a minute.”

Oh. Well, that was easy.

Peter walked Tony Stark out of the apartment and down the stairs in silence. They exited the building and got to the fancy sports car that had just pulled up to the sidewalk in front of them. 

Tony Stark got into the car then held out a hand, and Peter smiled, relieved that he at least didn’t make an enemy of Tony Stark. 

“Well,” Peter said, grasping his hand. “It was nice meeting you. Have a—aah!”

From the polite handshake, Tony Stark pulled him in, and before Peter could make his escape, the door shut. 

Peter shoved himself away, closer to the door, but the handle was locked. “What the hay, man?! This is illegal! It’s—it’s kidnapping!”

“Hush. Queens Medical, right?”

“How. Do. You. Know. That.”

Tony Stark, kidnapper, just waved a hand, pushing May’s lunch back into Peter’s hands from where it’d fallen.

And so, Peter, not really knowing the protocol for this situation, took the lunch back and hushed.

Because, like, sure this was definitely a kidnapping, Peter was pretty sure, but what do you do when your kidnapper knows your secret identity and is also kind of your idol?

Peter hushed, placing the lunch bag on the floor of the car. And then he spoke: “Okay. You got me. I’m Spider-Man.” May as well see where Tony Stark was going with this.

“Finally some sense,” Tony Stark said. “Alright, kid, let’s talk.”

“I’m not a kid,” Peter said, pointing a finger. “Unless you want to admit to being a child kidnapper.”

And for some reason, that made Tony Stark smirk. “Alright, Mr. Parker,” he said. “Heard.”

Peter smiled, sitting back in his seat and buckling up, and Tony Stark did the same. 

“So,” Tony Stark said, clapping his hands once then rubbing them together. “Let’s hear it.”

“Um… I’m sorry, but what?”

Tony Stark rotated a finger in the air, saying, “The whole spider-thing. What’s going on there? You born this way, or what?”

Peter laughed, startled. “Was that a Lady Gaga reference?” Then he shook his head and continued, “No, I was born normal. Got bit by a radio-active spider last year.”

“You said radioactive spider?” Tony Stark asked, mouth falling open. “That’s not just a gimmick?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Peter shrugged. “I mean, like, I never got to study it or anything, but it definitely bit me and that’s when I got my powers.”

“Go on.”

Peter looked away, through the window where he could see buildings passing by. His Spider-Sense was silent, but Peter wasn’t sure how much he could really trust Tony Stark with.

His own idol, yet Peter still couldn’t fully trust him. He decided to tell the half-truth.

“Mostly?” he said, “Sticky hands and feet. That’s how I climb up walls and stuff.”

“What about the webs?” Tony Stark asked, flipping his hands in the Spider-Man web-throw. “Those natural?”

Laughing, Peter shook his head. “No way.” He pulled up one sleeve of his sweater to reveal: “Web-shooters. Made ‘em myself.”

“No shit,” Tony Stark said, leaning forward. But when he reached out, Peter pulled his arm back, re-covering the shooter. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I just—”

“No, it’s fine,” Tony Stark said with a flick of his hand. “Smart move; I wouldn’t trust me either.”

Peter let a smile form on his face. 

“Anything else?” Tony Stark asked. “Any extra legs? Extra eyes?”

Tony Stark was a pretty funny guy.

“No, none of that… I have enhanced senses, and I'm pretty strong...yeah. That’s it.”

Tony Stark hummed. Peter glanced away.

“Okay,” Tony Stark said after a moment. “Cool. Now, let’s get down to business.”

“Business?”

“Of course. What, you think I hunted you down just for that?”

Peter wasn’t sure of anything at that point.

“No,” Tony Stark continued. “Well, partly. Look, you seem like a good kid—smart, too. I want to help you out.”

“What like, become my side—”

“Do not finish that sentence. No. More like a suit, and maybe some actual training. I’ve seen your fighting—kinda meh.”

Rude. But a suit? Peter’s heart immediately sped up. 

But wait. Peter was no idiot.

“What do you want in return?” he asked.

“Knew he was a smart one. You may have noticed, but the Avengers is somewhat lacking these days.”

Yeah, everyone noticed. It was basically all the news would talk about those days. 

Tony Stark continued, “Now, I’m not asking you now, but I want you to consider if. Once you’re eighteen, of course. We don’t let kids on there.”

Peter nearly rolled his eyes at the kid comment but let it slide. “Just consider it?” he asked to clarify.

“Just consider it,” Tony Stark agreed.

“And if I decide I don’t want to?”

Why would Peter say that?! What teenager in their right mind would say no to being an Avenger?! Still, he held his head high. He knew that he needed to know all the ‘terms of the arrangement’… May watched a lot of crime and law shows that were really helping him out.

“Then it’s a no,” Tony Stark said, flipping his hand in a blasé show. “But you can still keep the suit, and we’ll still meet for training. If you want to.”

Peter felt like he was missing something. It just sounded like too good a deal. But if that’s all there was to it…

“Okay,” he said. “But wait. What will I tell my Aunt?”

Tony Stark paused then, eyes widening. “You’re kidding me,” he said. “She really doesn’t know?”

“About Spider-Man? Not really!”

“How on Earth do you hide that? You know what: no. We’ll talk about that later. For now… Call it an internship.”

“An internship… That might work. Good idea, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m full of them, Mr. Parker.”

Peter groaned, laughing. “Ugh, no,” he said. “You can just call me ‘Peter’ from now on. I was just messing with you before.”

“Okay, Peter. You can continue calling me ‘Mr. Stark’. Since I’m your boss and all.” But Mr. Stark said it with a smirk, so Peter laughed at the joke.

The car stopped then, and Peter looked out to see the hospital outside the window.

Picking up the lunch from the floor, Peter unbuckled his seat-belt. “Well,” he said. “Thanks. This was cool.”

“It was cool,” Mr. Stark said. “Someone will be in touch to talk schedules.”

Peter opened up the door, stepping out. “Okay. Bye!”

He walked away towards the building, reeling from the last—how long was it, even? Twenty minutes? The whole thing was like a dream.

He made his way to the room May texted him, grinning when he saw her. 

She greeted him with a hug, and Peter leaned into it as much as he could.

“Woah,” May said. “You good, Petey? Something happen at school?”

“I’m good,” Peter mumbled against her. Then he pulled back to show her his grin, saying, “Great, actually. I have some really good news to give you, once you get home.”


	3. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight TW: depression is talked about in this chapter. Because even when I say I'll write a pure-fluff story, I gotta add some drama.

The first time Peter met with Mr. Stark, it was awkward. The second, he was star-struck. By the time they made it to the tenth, it was becoming routine. Peter’s heart wouldn’t pound in Mr. Stark’s presence, and he was starting to view him as less of a celebrity and more of a mentor, or friend.

“Peter, could you please” became “Yo, wouldja”, and “No problem, Mr. Stark” became “Sure diggity”.

Mr. Stark paused. “Did you really just say that?” he asked, and Peter broke off into laughter.

“I said nothing,” he claimed, and Mr. Stark said:

“You definitely did. It’s burned into my brain forever. I can’t believe this.”

They were starting to get used to each other, at least somewhat, and Peter was feeling good about the whole thing.

Then he suddenly remembered that Mr. Stark still didn’t know about his Spider-Sense. And, of course, Peter remembered this on the worst day ever, a day so awful Mr. Stark took him out for a candy bar, which, with a too late prompt from his senses, he proceeded to trip and drop down a storm drain.

“Fuck!” he shouted as he failed to catch it. Then he burst into tears.

“What the—Peter?” Mr. Stark’s hands came up to his chest as he was startled.

Peter couldn’t even find any words for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, failing to quiet his sobs. “I’m fine, I’m just…” He dissolved into further sobbing, hands coming up to cover his face.

“I—I can buy you another Kit-Kat?!” Mr. Stark said.

“No, it’s not that, I—” Sobs overtook the rest of the sentence.

“Don’t cry, I—fuck. Okay,” Mr. Stark said, grabbing Peter’s arm. “C’mon, let’s cry this way.”

Peter let himself be pulled further down the sidewalk then through a rush of people to the small sliver of space between buildings.

It was slightly better, away from the curious but mostly annoyed stares of strangers. Mr. Stark gave him space, rambling as Peter broke down.

“Remember that it’s okay to cry,” he was saying. He had taken off his sunglasses at some point, looking at Peter with concern shining in his eyes. “My shit dad never taught me that, but I learned better.”

Peter coughed out a laugh, but it only sounded like a more hysterical sob.

Hurriedly, Mr. Stark continued, “And, it’s good it let it out.” He patted Peter’s back a few times, and Peter could hear his heart racing right alongside his own.

Peter pulled in a quick breath, letting it shake out and finally settling himself down.

“That’s it,” Mr. Stark said. “You’re okay.”

Peter nodded, whipping his nose on one sleeve of his sweatshirt and his tears on the other. He cleared his throat a couple times then said, “I’m good, I’m good.” He forced out a laugh and smile, continuing, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Want to tell me what just happened there? Because you said it’d been a rough day, but that was…”

“A bit much, yeah,” Peter said. It looked like Mr. Stark was about to interrupt, maybe correct him, so Peter continued: “I’ll explain, just—just give me a minute.”

His voice grew hoarse towards the end of the sentence, and he knew that explaining any more would send him right back into it.

Thankfully, Mr. Stark seemed to understand. He nodded slowly, saying, “Okay. Should we continue our walk?”

Peter nodded, and they moved along, following the flor of pedestrians in silence as Mr. Stark re-adjusted his hat and sunglasses.

They continued forward in silence, walking North and Peter only breaking the silence to thank Mr. Stark for the handkerchief he handed over so Peter didn’t have to use his sweatshirt.

The pedestrians slowly thinned out as they got away from the tourist-center of Times Square, and they eventually reached the gates of Central Park.

Peter felt like he had gotten himself back under control, so he finally said, “Okay. I’m good now.”

Mr. Stark looked at him, waiting, so Peter continued, “Really, sorry about that. Sometimes that just…happens.”

“It just happens,” Mr. Stark echoed, and Peter wished he had a better answer.

“Yeah, you know. Sometimes you just gotta cry it out.”

Mr. Stark hummed, looking back towards the path in front of them. “Has that happened since you were a kid?” he asked.

Well… Now that Peter thought about it…no.

Tilting his head, Peter looked up at Mr. Stark and said, “No, actually. Just since…last year.”

“Spider-bite or…” Mr. Stark trailed off.

“No.” Peter looked down as he said, “Just since my uncle.”

Peter already told him about Uncle Ben, which is why no extra explaining was needed.

Mr. Stark nodded. Then, after a brief pause, he let out a slow breath and said: “You wanna hear a story?”

“Sure,” Peter said, swallowing.

There was a moment before Mr. Stark said, “Kinda chilly. You want some hot chocolate? I know a place.”

Emotionally, Peter wasn’t hungry. But physically?

“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” he said, and Mr. Stark nodded, leading them down a different path.

“So,” Mr. Stark began, kicking a pebble out of his path. “This is probably gonna be an awkward and uncomfortably-emotional conversation, so get ready.”

Peter nodded but kept quiet, waiting for Mr. Stark to go on.

“You know I was kidnapped and basically a prisoner-of-war in Afghanistan, yeah?”

Everyone knew. It was part of the legend of Iron Man. Peter actually remembered when it happened, remembered when his idol was off the map for however many months. But then Mr. Stark came back even cooler.

“Yes,” Peter said simply.

“Right. Well, turns out, you don’t come out of that kind of thing unscathed.” Mr. Stark continued looking forward instead of facing Peter, so Peter watched the road in front of them, too. “I get freaked out underwater—that’s called a trigger—and, well. I have Major Depressive Disorder.”

Peter’s mouth fell open. “You—really? Mr. Stark, you have depression?”

“Yup. Which is why when you talk bout how ever since your uncle died you’re sometimes so upset you cry uncontrollably… It raises an alarm, to say the least.”

“I don’t have depression.” Peter had seen what depression looked like in some of his friends. Sure, Peter got sad sometimes, but he didn’t have it nearly as bad.

“I’m not saying you do,” Mr. Stark said. He turned them down another path, continuing, “It’s just something to watch out for, okay? You want to talk about it yet?”

Peter let out a breath. Then he nodded.

“It’s just been a really rough couple of weeks.”

“Well? Let’s hear it.”

So Peter told him—about the homework, the bullies, the Spider-Man villains. He told him about some of his own triggers, about how tight spaces made him sweat and every building couldn’t be trusted. He told him about the crying, how he sometimes had a couple of down days in a row each month but that’s it.

Mr. Stark looked ready to ask more about that, but they reached the coffee shop then, so he closed his mouth and put a smile on instead.

They went inside and ordered amongst the crowd, and everything seemed fine. Then Peter suddenly remembered a very crucial piece of information that he forgot to tell Mr. Stark.

He sucked in a breath as he felt that familiar tickle at the back of his neck. Every muscle in his body tense, he looked around the room, not seeing anything off.

Regardless, it was time to go.

“Mr. Stark,” he whispered, tugging the man’s sleeve. Once he had his attention, he repeated, “Mr. Stark. I don’t know how to explain this, but something’s wrong.”

Mr. Stark straightened up. “Do you feel panicky? Is your heart racing?” he asked.

Peter groaned. “No, not like that. Look I’ll explain later.” He grabbed Mr. Stark’s arm, pulling him towards the door and leaving their drinks behind. “We have to go.”

And Mr. Stark, for all he looked like he wanted to say something, shut up and let himself be pulled, following after Peter and ducking his head.

They made it out of the coffee shop, Peter leading them in a random direction down the street. He joined them into the flow of pedestrian traffic, looking behind himself but unable to tell if they were being followed.

By the time they were a few blocks away, his Spider-Sense had died down to nothing. Whatever the threat was, they lost it.

“Okay,” Peter said, slowing his pace. “We’re good now.”

“Okay,” Mr. Stark said. “Care to explain?”

Peter hesitated. “Maybe back at the tower?” He glanced around at the civilians around them as a hint.

Nodding slowly, Mr. Stark said, “Sure.”

Great. Peter had a solid ten-minute walk to figure out how to say it.

Ten minutes later, he was completely lost on how to say it. Oh, boy.

“So,” he started, drawing out the word to stall for time. Maybe if he was lucky, something crazy would happen, demanding Mr. Stark’s attention. Maybe a lab would catch mildly—but not dangerously—on fire. Or something.

“So,” Mr. Stark echoed back at him, and Peter cringed.

“Look, to begin, I want to let you know that I completely trust you.”

“Okay.”

“And, like, okay, at first I didn’t, which is why you don’t know, but then, like, sort of, um, I forgot? Yeah.”

“O…kay?”

“So, I guess I should just come out and say it, huh?”

“That would probably be best.”

“Okay.” Peter jumped up, counting off on his fingers as he said, “Superpowers, right? We’ve got the wall-crawling, the super-strength—everybody’s favorite: super-hunger. Well, get ready for number four: Spider-Sense!”

He just stared at Mr. Stark, watching a number of emotions flicker over his face. Terrifyingly, he settled on a smirk.

“Pardon?”

Peter shrugged. “You heard me. Basically, I can sense danger. It’s pretty cool, if a little vague.”

“You sense danger. What, like paranoia?”

“Yeah, sort of. Kinda. Well, not really.” Peter shrugged again. “I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“Clearly.”

“Uh… I guess it’s kinda like a tingle. Yeah. In the back of my neck.”

“Are you sure you don’t have extra eyes?” Mr. Stark asked, joking but somewhat serious.

Peter snorted a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said. But what if… No. He didn’t have any other eyes.

He just looked at Mr. Stark for a moment, waiting for a reaction.

“Well,” Mr. Stark said finally. “Thanks for getting us out of there, then. Somebody must have recognized me despite the ensemble.” He gestured over himself, emphasizing the hat and glasses. And, yeah, made enough sense.

“You’re not mad or something? I kept that from you for, like, an awkward amount of time.”

Mr. Stark shrugged. “You said you forgot, so I guess you forgot. It happens.”

Peter grinned. “Mr. Stark, you are the best.”

“I try. Don’t think I’ve forgotten our conversation from earlier, though. I want to hear the end of what you were saying there.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, you’re cutting out. Ckshsh.”

“Peter, we’re not even on the phone.”

Peter raised his voice. “What was that? I can’t hear you! Ckshshshsh.”

Mr. Stark snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes, and reached over to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Whatever, kid.”

“Whatever, Mr. Stark.”


End file.
